Well, we’re four episodes into Netflix’s new season of Peaky Blinders, and we’ve finally figured out what Tommy Shelby’s grand plan for the boys is: a stag party. As in let’s go out and hunt and kill and eat a big deer, oh, and by the way, Dad’s dead. Yep, Tommy takes this male bonding opportunity to inform his brothers that their not-so-dear-old Da – whom we last saw in season 1, portrayed by Tommy Flanagan of Sons Of Anarchy fame – caught a couple slugs outside a bar in Boston. I believe they mean Boston, Massachusetts, not England, and between this plot point and Tommy’s continued references to setting up shop there for the Shelby’s legit business operations, one has to wonder if Beantown is the setting for Peaky Blinders season 4. But back to the matter at hand, or should I say the meat of the matter, and by meat I mean deer meet, their Dad is dead and Tommy says of him, “The only thing he ever taught us was how to kill and cut a stag… We eat and then we forget him.” A touching tribute.

After delivering this news with all the tact of a Donald Trump tweet, Tommy then adds, oh and another thing, we’re committing a robbery. A-HA! Now we’ve really figured out the grand plan. I’ve talked before about the show’s sometimes convoluted and confusing criminal schemes and this one has only taken us four full episodes to figure out. The deal is this, as we already know, Tommy’s been hired by aristocratic Russian exiles to supply them and an army with weapons for a rebellion in Soviet Georgia. Problem is, Tommy doesn’t trust them to pay their debt, which is wise of him as they seem totally shady gravy, so instead, he plans to rob them of the family jewels they smuggled out of Russia, possibly up their hoo has (more about that later). According to Tommy, this will be the Peaky Blinders’ last big caper before going legit, which he promised Grace before her untimely death. Yeah right. The old “This Is The Last Crime We Ever Commit” job. I’ve heard that one before.

Meanwhile, back in town Polly gets stinking drunk and decides for some inexplicable reason it’s a good time to go down to church and confess to killing Major Campbell last season. She also tells the priest on duty her family name is Shelby and about the Peaky Blinders’ upcoming plans to kill a “man of the cloth,” in this case, duplicitous pedophile Father Hughes, for passing secrets to the Soviets. Afterwards, the priest of course tells you know who you know what, which will eventually upend Tommy’s well laid plans. It is in this scene that Peaky Blinders as a series succumbs to what I call “The Sons Of Anarchy Principle,” which is, the plot only makes sense if the characters do the absolute stupidest thing possible. Like, who in their right freakin’ mind, goes to confession, tells everyone their name, and confesses to murders they’ve committed in the past and will commit in the future? And, besides, confession doesn’t work like that. It’s a bummer to see such a usually well-written show stumble into this pothole.

Anyhow, Polly isn’t the only lady in the Shelby clan causing a ruckus. Back in the Blinders’ gambling den, Esme’s pissed she’s pregnant and has to lay off the Cocaine, Lizzie’s pissed Tommy’s using her for sex again, and they’re all pissed off they’ve been left in charge while the boys go hunting. So when Arthur’s wife Linda shows up, they’re easy to whip up into a frenzy, and she insists they go on strike, in solidarity with the women workers of Birmingham, who are doing the same. “Those who march on Good Friday have God on their side.,” Linda says, which leads to a triumphant strut down the Small Heath streets (and one Hell of a badass GIF).

Believe it or not, Tommy’s women’s troubles have only just begun. Upon returning from their hunt, he finds Princess Tatiana waiting for him and after some cursory flirting and asking for proof Father Hughes betrayed them, they hook up like we all knew they were going to from the moment she steeped onto the screen. Unfortunately, after consummating their relationship, she turns into that girl you went on a date with who got drunk and went cray cray and started a fight, or in this case, ran around the house topless with a revolver and played Russian Roulette and tried to make the maid watch as you have sex and punched you in the face and stole your car. Worst. Date. Ever.

If that ain’t bad enough, emboldened by the strike, the girls in the gang are now demanding separate bathrooms and a bigger cut of Tommy’s big score. Esme says Arthur told Linda all about it and she in turn shared the information with the newly united Birmingham Sisterhood of Mob Floozys Local 1179. When Tommy confronts Linda about it she plays hardball and demands an equal cut as Tommy so she and Arthur can move to California and become missionaries. And she won’t even let Tommy smoke in the house! What a b***h!

Tommy’s bad day, however, is about to get a lot worse. Having procured permission to kill Father Hughes, Tommy follows the priest into a public restroom, because you know, where else do dirty priests hang out? Bad news, Hughes already knows about it since Polly spilled the beans in the confessional and his men beat the blithering shite out of Tommy. The priest lets it be known that the passing of the secrets is all part of The Economic League’s plan to provoke a Soviet act of aggression on British soil which will aid their Right Wing agenda. If Tommy doesn’t go back to the Grand Duke and Duchess in London and explain that it was all a big mistake and make things right by apologizing publicly, they’ll take away his son, and hey, Father Hughes is no one you want to leave your kids around.

Fortunately, despite have a fractured skull and possible internal bleeding, that’s nothing a few bumps of cocaine won’t fix, so it’s toot toot and he’s back to The Big Smoke to make amends to Hughes in front of the Russians. He’s also got a new plan to let the U.S.S.R. in on the fix. Hopefully his brains won’t spill out his head before the next episode so we can see how he snatches victory from the jaws of defeat.

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician who thinks The Damned were better than The Clash, and that Barry’s Irish Breakfast Tea is better than PG Tips. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC.